


They Turned Down the Lights

by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)



Series: Bubblegum [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Beta Derek Hale, Beta Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Endgame, Gender Issues, Gender Roles, Infidelity, Infidelity Outside of Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore, Not Beta Read, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-16 17:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10576398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandblade/pseuds/LupusScintilla
Summary: Stiles had abandoned his Mountain Dew and Twizzlers and made himself walk, not run, out of the building.♠This fic mentions gender discrimination, but doesn't describe it specifically - see the notes for more.





	

Stiles chose a booth in the far corner of the room, sliding in and breathing deeply as he hit the end of the seat. The Hale Diner was surprisingly empty given that it was a Friday night, but then again, most of the patrons who'd be here in an hour and a half were currently in the movie theater across the street. It’s where Stiles was five minutes ago, too.

Stiles gulped as he flipped open the menu. This was the only place anyone in his social circle came to eat without their parents, so it wasn’t as if he needed to look at the food choices, but he did feel the need to hide behind the big sheet of glossy cardboard for a little while. 

He didn’t want to think about what he’d just seen, so he tried to actually look at the list of food in front of him. Fuck it. He was a big boy, with a half-decent part-time wage and two extra twenties in his pocket after mowing the neighbor’s front and back lawn last weekend, and for the first time in a long time there was no one in sight who’d judge or mock him for ordering what he really wanted. 

He nodded to himself, satisfied with his decision, and when he looked up to see if he could get a server’s attention jumped in his seat a little, ‘cause damn, there was a guy at the end of the table. A hot guy. A hot guy in an apron, wearing a dicky, fake, nineteen-fifties cook’s hat thing, and holding a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. 

“Are you ready to order?” Mr-Hot-Server-Guy in the dicky hat asked, with what appeared to be a real smile.

Stiles looked down at the menu, cleared his throat, and tried to sound sure when he said, “I’ll have an Ultimate Burger with extra Swiss, a large Curly Fries with regular salt instead of seasoning, and a Raspberry Cheesecake Milkshake.”

He looked up at Mr-Hot-Server-Guy—who was definitely someone who Stiles should know but couldn’t place right this minute—fully expecting to get at least an arched eyebrow, if not a condescending,  _ are you sure a guy like you can eat all that?  _ comment, but the dude just nodded and smiled again before he walked off, and Stiles felt bad that he’d pre-judged the guy. Not everyone on the planet was an asshole, apparently.

Stiles’ best-friend and boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, were definitely assholes, however.

Stiles had been a bit pissed when Scott had told him he had to pick up an extra shift at Dr Deaton’s instead of coming to see the new Avengers movie tonight. It wasn’t as if they’d been able to hang out last week at all. But, best-bro-ness meant Stiles had forgiven him quickly. Sure, it was almost exam season, and that meant they both had papers to write and tests to study for and no real time to see each other over the next month, but it also meant that the end of their third year at college was near at hand. They’d have all summer to catch up on movies and CoD and all the other things that they’d been missing out on in these last couple of weeks.

It was a time-honored tradition between Stiles and Scott to see the newest MCU or DC movie together, no matter what. They’d agreed that this time they’d see it together after exams, and pretend it was the first sitting for both of them, even if one of them had given in and gone to see it with someone else in the meantime. Stiles had caved shockingly fast, in fact. He’d texted Jackson not twenty minutes later to see if he’d like to see it. Jackson wasn’t much for comic book movies, but he was generally all for food and backseat makeouts after, so Stiles had thought it was worth a try. He’d been disappointed, but unsurprised, with the near-instant reply telling him that Jackson’s parents had sprung a work-people dinner party on him and he couldn’t get out of it. 

Stiles had, in the spirit of growing the fuck up and dealing, decided to go to the flick alone. He got there early, bought a huge Mountain Dew and a bag of strawberry flavored Twizzlers for once as he didn’t have to share with anyone who’d complain, and planted himself four rows back from the middle, two from the end of the isle. He’d wanted to sit in the centre, but decided that the sneaky two seats he left on the side closest to the exit made it look like he was waiting for people who were going to arrive a bit late, not the complete nigel-no-friends that he was.

He’d opened the HuffPost app on his phone to keep himself occupied, and allowed himself one licorice vine for the lights-on previews and a generous two sips of soda. When the lights had gone down he finally let himself update his Facebook feed to say where he was. He’d then taken another sip of Mountain Dew, made sure his phone was on silent, and sat back to enjoy. He’d not been prepared for what he’d seen, however.

Jackson, Stiles’ Alpha boyfriend, had walked in with his arm around Scott, Stiles’ Omega best-friend, and they’d sat in the front row of the top-section of the theatre. Stiles had been glad that his drink was currently in the cupholder on his left, rather than in his hand. He’d sat with his mouth open as Scott had casually laid his head on Jackson’s shoulder, and Jackson had leaned in and said something with a smile on his face.

They hadn’t even made it all the way to through the lights-off previews before they started sucking face. It certainly didn’t look like the first time they’d done it.

Stiles had abandoned his Mountain Dew and Twizzlers and made himself walk, not run, out of the building. He doubted, given how absorbed they’d been in each other, that either Scott or Jackson had noticed him leaving.

Stiles had stood a moment on the steps outside and thought about heading straight home. But his dad had the night off tonight, and he’d ask the wrong, or the right questions, and Stiles would likely burst into tears. He wasn’t ready to face that conversation yet.

Now, waiting for his burger, Stiles fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled back through his messaging history with Scott and then his one with Jackson. He supposed he should have seen it, but who would want to? Stiles had honestly thought that Scott was just busier with work and school, and Jackson, well. He’d thought Jackson was just taking some time to come to terms with the bombshell Stiles had laid on him a few weeks ago. Jackson hadn’t dumped him immediately, so Stiles had thought things were going to be okay. Apparently the Alpha had simply been suring-up his back-up plan before he gave Stiles the flick, however.

Either that or, and Stiles hated that he was probably right to assume this, Scott’s heat was last week, and Jackson had just waited to see if Scott would share it with him.

“One Raspberry Cheesecake Milkshake, Ultimate Burger with an extra slice or two of Swiss, and an extra-large Curly Fries with salt instead of seasoning. I had the guys in the kitchen give you a bit of extra Chipotle sauce from the burger for dipping your fries. You like that, right?” Mr-Hot-Server-Guy finished with a flourish and a hopeful look.

Stiles looked at the fucking awesome food that had just been put in front of him—he was pretty sure he’d never seen that many curly fries on one plate before—and then up at the guy whose name tag said Derek in blocky handwriting that had edges as sharp as its owner’s cheekbones. It wasn’t as if Stiles hadn’t seen the guy a hundred times before. He worked here, for a start, and he was also one of Stiles’ high-school classmate’s big-brothers, but for some reason it felt like Stiles was looking at him for the first time.

“I,” Stiles sputtered out, “thank you, Derek.” 

Derek smiled again when Stiles said his name, and then his smile gave way to a look of concern. “Are you alright? I thought I was imagining it before, but I can smell it clearly now. You’re upset. Did something happen?”

Stiles, brain a little slow from taking in the life-altering scene he’d witnessed earlier, had to think on that a moment. Derek, his hot-as-the-sun server that he knew the name of but had needed a name tag to jog his memory for, could smell that he was upset. Smell. Oh, yes. Derek was a Hale, of course, and Hales were Werewolves. Born ones, not bitten like Scott. They could smell just about anything on a person.

With all that kind of straight in his head, Stiles went to open his mouth to try to deny the shittyness that was his life at this moment, but instead let out a small whine, that then, mortifyingly, morphed into a sob.

Derek was in the booth in a matter of seconds, muttering something about taking a break to someone called Peter, and then reaching across to take the hand that Stiles had on the table in front of him.

“It’s okay, Stiles. Breathe.” Derek was definitely talking to Stiles this time. “So you caught them, huh?”

Stiles head snapped up at that, and he felt his face drain of blood. A waiter at the diner knew about Stiles’ boyfriend cheating on him with his best-friend before he did. That was, that was not okay. “Caught them? Did everyone but me know?” 

Derek shook his head and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know, Stiles. But not much happens in the social lives of high-schoolers and college kids in this town that we don’t get to see in Hale’s.” 

Stiles slumped back in the seat, but didn’t let go of Derek’s hand. It was warm and solid and felt too nice to not keep holding. He looked down at the food, and then over to the milkshake, and asked, “You know my name?”

“Of course I do. You’re the Sheriff’s kid, and you were in the same class as my sister, Cora, at school. She used to bitch about you and someone called Lydia beating her in tests all the time. She decided that the pair of you were going to take over the world. She called you the Irrepressible Omega Duo.”

Stiles couldn’t help it this time, he let out a full sob and felt a tear start down his cheek. “I’m, I’m not. That’s why...”

Derek didn’t let go of his hand, but stood up and came around to his side of the table, and slid in beside him, but not too close. “You’re not what, Stiles?”

Stiles swallowed and tried to not sniff outrageously loud. He had no one else to talk to about this, really. His dad would just pat him on the head again and tell him that he loved him no matter what. Scott didn’t understand, even if Stiles wanted to call him a friend anymore, and apparently Jackson hadn’t been as cool about it as he’d seemed.

Stiles glanced sideways at Derek—they were about the same height, despite Derek being about twice his size across—then looked down at their hands and hoped the guy didn’t freak out and drop the contact as if he could catch something when Stiles said, “I’m not an Omega, not really. I’m Be-Ome.”

“So?” Derek’s grip didn’t change, and he sounded genuinely confused.

Stiles looked up at him again, and yeah, that wasn’t the face of a guy who was judging. “I don’t have normal heats every couple of months like real Omegas. And I can only get pregnant when I’m fully in heat, and that’s only once a year.” He breathed in and held it, then whispered, “I’m not made right.”

Derek tilted his head to the side and said, very slowly, “why would being of mixed-gender be not made right?”

Stiles half wanted to kiss him, half wanted to slap him. “‘Cause of what I just said? My Alpha boyfriend of more than half a year found out and reacted by banging my completely normal Omega best-friend. I always figured there’d be the chance Jackson would freak out, but. I suppose I hoped he was a bit more progressive than he obviously is.”

Derek looked horrified. “That Whittemore kid is cheating on you because of your gender? And, forgive me for being crude, but how the hell didn’t he know after that long of being with you? I mean, if he and the McCall boy are ‘banging’, then you two were too, right? You certainly looked cosy enough every time I saw you together.”

Stiles coughed and Derek handed him the glass of water he’d brought when he first took Stiles’ order. “I. We didn’t. Not.” Stiles took another swig of the water and then pushed the glass away, between his now wilted looking burger and probably stone-cold fries. “We never actually went that far. I hedged at first, but eventually I told him that my dad would never forgive me if I got pregnant before I was out of school, and that the only truly safe way to make sure was to not, well, knot me at all. I was going to spend my one good heat with him, but that’s not until almost the end of summer.”

Derek’s face changed again, his look softer and more concerned than angry. “Why wouldn’t you want your boyfriend to know? I’m Alph-Be, and it’s never been something I’ve thought to hide.”

Stiles blinked and tried to stop his shock from showing. “But, you. You look like an Alpha.”

“And you look like an Omega, Stiles. If I was human, I would be just Alpha. But I’m a Beta in the Pack. For a wolf, Pack status really affects the body. Technically I could become just Alpha, but we live in a really stable place and time, so I’ll never be the Alpha of a Pack, and therefore I’ll never be completely Alpha.” He smiled softly again and dropped his voice a little to say, “I’ve never been in a rut because I can’t go into one alone the way a full Alpha does. I would if I was in a relationship with an Omega, though.” He squeezed Stiles’ hand again, and then ran his thumb over the top of Stiles’ fingers. “Or with a Be-Ome when they’re in heat, of course.”

Derek’s touch was so light, and Stiles wanted more, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He said, “and, that’s,” he couldn’t figure out how to say it without sounding like a complete asshole, but he plowed onwards, “it’s never caused any problems for you? Jackson didn’t say it to my face obviously, but he clearly doesn’t think I’m right, and I’ve heard a lot of really shitty stuff over the years. No one’s ever called you a freak?”

Derek laughed. “A couple of people, yeah. One girlfriend. I left her at the party we were at when she went off about it. There was also a guy I was going to ask out, but I heard him talking absolute shit about mixed-genders before I had the chance, so I suppose I dodged a bullet. I tend to socialise more with Weres though, so it might be because of that that I don’t hear it.”

“It’s less of a thing for ‘Wolves?” Stiles looked at his milkshake and considered taking a sip, but thought better of it.

“Much less,” Derek said, then turned his head and said in the direction of the kitchen, “can we get the same order again, guys? Thanks.” He looked at Stiles once more. “It’s not common, but it’s just the way things are. In most Packs I’d have been born with a Beta body to go along with my pack position, but no one in my family, or any of the other Packs around, has ever had a problem with it. No one has ever had a problem with my older brother, Erik, either. He’s physically an Omega, but a Beta in the pack.” Derek stood, letting go of Stiles’ hand to grab up his plates of cold food. “And remember, we can smell each other’s genders, so it’s not as if other ‘Wolves just don’t know. I’ll be back in a sec, okay?”

Stiles managed a nod, then sat staring at his hand, imagining he could see the warmth of Derek’s touch fading. 

In what seemed like it was only a minute or two but was probably more like ten, Derek was back. He had Stiles’ food order and someone was following him with extra. Derek sat the burger and shake in front of Stiles, and the curly fries in the middle of the table, then took his seat again, back along side Stiles.

The other guy put another burger and a bottle of Coke in front of Derek. He wasn’t wearing a nametag, and didn’t reach out to shake hands, but introduced himself anyway.

“I’m Erik, Derek’s big brother. We couldn’t help but overhear from the kitchen, and I just had to come out to congratulate you on ridding yourself of a problem. Any Alpha that only wants you for your heats is, and pardon the language, a knot-headed heat-chaser who’s not worth your time. You can do far better, Stiles. Far, far better.” He smiled the same wide smile as Derek, then added, “I know that there are differences between us because of the ‘Wolf versus Human thing, but if you ever need someone to talk to about being Be-Ome, I’d be happy to listen. And, if you say yes to what I’m pretty sure my brother is about to ask you and that makes talking to me weird, I’m sure I can find someone else for you to chat to instead, okay?”

Stiles was flummoxed and thankful all at once. He managed a quiet, “Thank you, Erik,” and then watched as the guy went back to the kitchen. There was a shouted, “Whittemore’s an ass, be glad you’re rid of him,” from that general direction, and then it was just Derek and Stiles at the table again. 

Derek picked up the fries and offered them to Stiles. “That comment from afar was Peter, my uncle. He wanted to come out and speak to you too, but Erik talked him out of it, thank the Moon.”

Stiles dragged some of the fries onto his plate next to his burger with a fork. “You didn’t want him out here?”

“Nope. I, um,” Derek put down the knife he’d just cut his burger in half with and looked straight into Stiles’ eyes. “Peter would have made himself at home and stolen half your food. I knew Erik would leave so it was just the two of us.”

Stiles copied Derek and sliced his humongous burger down the middle, then reached for his shake. He took a sip and Derek did the same with his soda. 

Stiles breathed in and out, and let the last few minutes catch up with him.

Oh, Erik said. Then Derek said. And they were alone, and. 

“Derek, your brother said something about a question.” Stiles felt like he was fishing to say it, but despite the fact that he’d only known he was single for the last half or three-quarters of an hour, he figured he was ready to hear what he thought Derek was going to ask. 

Derek turned a little in the seat, reached out and took Stiles hand again, then exhaled before saying, “it’s presumptuous of me to ask when you probably haven’t even changed your Facebook status yet, but I’d really like it if you’d let me take you on a date. Say, burgers then a movie? What do you think about the new Avengers’ one that’s showing? And if you say no tonight, can I ask you again when your summer vacation begins?”

Stiles smiled and felt it go all the way to his eyes and beyond. “Just a tick.” He reached into his pocket with his free hand and fished out his phone again. He opened Facebook, deleted the post he’d made about seeing the movie, then changed his relationship status to single. He thumbed-out,  _ Knot-headed heat-chasers are pathetic _ on his wall because that was a phrase everyone needed to know, then put his phone away again. He’d deal with unfriending and fallout and all those things later.

Stiles smiled even wider when he looked back up at Derek and said, “I’d love to see the Avengers movie with you.” He squeezed Derek’s hand. “Let’s call tonight just two friends holding hands, yeah? Then, once I’ve dealt with my ex and my possibly ex-friend and all the shit that will go down there, then how about I ask you on a proper date after my exams are over?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The gender discrimination in this fic centers around Stiles' boyfriend, Jackson, cheating on him when he finds out that Stiles' isn't a 'pure' or 'normal' Omega. 
> 
> As writers we often use the A/B/O gender spectrum/designations to reflect or comment on gender and sexuality in the real world, but sometimes we fuck up when we do. If anything in this fic is offensive or triggering, it is not my intention. I’ve tried to tag as best I can; please let me know if I’ve missed anything.
> 
> Apologies for the lack of a beta; the people I rely on for such things have far busier lives than mine, and I am an impatient fucker. I'd love a Beta who is also part of the Teenwolf fandom, for the record, if anyone's keen?
> 
>  
> 
> **♠♠♠**
> 
>  
> 
>  **This piece of Bubblegum was inspired by Sad Movies (Always Make Me Cry) - Sue Thompson:[Lyrics](http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/sue_thompson/sad_movies_make_me_cry.html), [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-P_1AjmCyLA).** This is the song that made me think of doing this 'Bubblegum' series.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://inkandblade.tumblr.com/). Pokes regarding typos etc—especially as this isn't Beta-read—are very welcome. Thank you.


End file.
